


Controlled Burn

by Moonsheen



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Competency, Doctors & Physicians, Enemies to Friends, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Reader, Gen, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Original Character(s), Mission Fic, Politics, Post-Game(s), Post-War, Reader and Hedwyn friendship, Recovery, Redemption, Road Trip, Survivor Guilt, Worldbuilding, post-war politics, revolutionary boyfriendS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheen/pseuds/Moonsheen
Summary: When an outbreak of plague threatens the tenuous peace in the newly formed Sahrian Union, Hedwyn must return to the Bloodborder for the first time since his exile. His mission? Escort a certain cranky old doctor back to his old post...





	Controlled Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This is the companion-fic to my earlier story '[Hedge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12331059)' -- though it can be enjoyed seperately.

In the deep hour of the night, Hedwyn was summoned to the Prime Minister’s private study. This wasn’t unusual in of itself. Since the Scribe’s Return, Hedwyn had become one of Volfred Sandalwood’s primary political aides, and often ran errands for him.

“It’s a little late,” remarked Hedwyn, to Ti’zo, who’d been the one to fetch him. More specifically, he’d been the one to implode in Hedwyn’s face, much to Hedwyn’s confusion and Fikani’s general amusement. “Everything all right?”

He asked this while shrugging into his government robes, as quickly as he could.

“Skrii,” said Ti’zo, who had only taken a moment to return to his proper plump shape, indicating that it would be better if Volfred explained it himself.

“Oh, it will be one of _those_ missions,” said Fikani. She’d dressed and come with him, moving quietly through the halls of the old Palace of Justice. Since the Return, Fikani could seldom be persuaded to leave Hedwyn’s side. He didn’t mind.  “You don’t think he’ll want someone assassinated, do you?”

“Has he ever asked you to do that?” asked Hedwyn.

“No, no,” said Fikani, quickly, “it’s just... He seems like he could be the type, if he _wanted_ to be.”

Volfred Sandalwood didn’t want anyone assassinated. In fact, when Hedwyn arrived at the Prime Minister’s private study -- a quiet interior garden that was accessed via a set of doors in the official office -- Volfred was engaged in a rather heated discussion with Chief Physician Oralech. Fikani hung back in the office. Hedwyn stepped through the doors into the garden. Neither the Prime Minister or his Chief Physician noticed him come in.

“You are certain?” asked Volfred.

“I am,” said Oralech.

“They will try to force a vote on the matter.”

“They will.”

“I can hold them, but only for so long,” said Volfred. “Your presence would be a great help to me.”

“It would,” agreed Oralech. “By all means, search every avenue for an excuse to keep me, Volfred. It is very possible you will find one, but I am the only one for this task, and you know it.”

“...You know the whole of me, as ever, my dear,” said Volfred, eyes darkening visibly. He hesitated. His fingers quietly found Oralech’s forearm, resting over it. He smiled, sadly. “Forgive me. You once swore you would never go back.”

“I did,” said Oralech. “In another life.”

Here, the Chief Physician grinned, bitterly, as he leaned his head in towards the Prime Minister’s, and briefly out of Hedwyn’s line of sight. 

“I would not ask you to throw this one away so lightly,” muttered Volfred, in that silence.

Oralech sighed and moved away.

“Do you think I intend to be so cavalier with it? What do you take me for, Volfred?” Oralech scoffed. As he was yet mostly a demon, this had the effect of a great bull in the garden. He rolled his blazing eyes, and in doing so caught sight of Hedwyn hovering in the doorframe.  To this, he rolled his shoulders and stepped backwards into the shadows. “Enough. Your boy has arrived.”

The particular punctuation of ‘boy’ caused Hedwyn to pull his back straight as he cleared his throat.

 “Chief Physician,” said Hedwyn, with a tight smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hm,” said Oralech, folding his arms into his sleeves.

“Hedwyn,” said Volfred, turning smoothly. His worried expression replaced by his more typical measured smile. Ti’zo winged over to chitter in his whorl, before finding a more comfortable space on Oralech’s shoulder. “And Ti’zo. Thank you for coming so quickly. I apologize for the late hour -- and to Fikani, for taking you from her.”

“Accepted!” called Fikani from the main study. Volfred paused, brow raised, but he liked and trusted Fikani, so that earned a resigned laugh. One could almost forget the look on his face a minute ago. One could almost think the whole thing was a courtesy call.

“ I am afraid it is a matter of some urgency,” continued Volfred.

“About the border?” offered Hedwyn.

“So you have heard.”

“It’s hard not to,” said Hedwyn.

The news had blown in just that day: rumors were that a plague had broken out in the old settlements that had once formed the primary line of defense at the Bloodborder. The rumors spread quickly, through the old town criers and the newly minted newspapers. It spread too fast for anyone to know what was really going on: some were saying a thousand were ill, some were saying ten thousand were dead. Hedwyn, who’d served on the border and had once known intimately how many soldiers could take up a full fort, could say those numbers were overblown, but that was about all he knew at this point. Volfred had issued a well-measured statement declaring government’s intent to see to it the afflicted be cared for immediately, but the panic had begun to spread to the Union council.

“And I fear some on the council intend to force our hand,” said Volfred, picking up on Hedwyn’s thoughts in that way only a Reader really could, “and use this as the excuse they have been waiting for. Immediate action is required, no doubt, but action spurred by fear shall only poison our efforts. If the contagion cannot be contained, they will want to close the border.”

The process of opening and disarming the Union’s once brutally contested northern front had taken the better part of two years. Hedwyn, who had grown up close to the conflict and served in the military for the better part of his life, bristled at the thought.

“They can’t--” he began, at the same time Fikani back in the room went: “They will NOT.”

Volfred held out a hand.

“And they won’t,” he assured them, with real feeling, “as the matter shall be well at hand by the time it goes to vote. Councilman Oralech has agreed to see to it personally.”

Here, he gestured to the demon lurking behind him. Oralech locked eyes with Hedwyn. The demon didn’t blink. Hedwyn raised his chin.

“I would like you to serve as his escort,” said Volfred.

“You’d trust me with that?” asked Hedwyn, a little surprised.

“Of course,” said Volfred. “Your experience as an outrider means you have a better grasp of the region than most. I will need you to guide him there via the fastest route you know. Once there, I will need you to assist him in assessing the situation and seeing to the treatment of all affected embankments, of which I am sure you have some knowledge.”

“Knowledge that’s a little out of date,” said Hedwyn. “It’s been eight years.”

Five of those spent in exile, but he didn’t need to say that.

“Twenty-two, for me,” rumbled Oralech.

“Um, less for me?” said Fikani. She’d given up the polite fiction that she was waiting back in the main office. She marched into garden, peering over Hedwyn’s shoulder. “I was reconnaissance you know. And I can fly. You do intend to send me, too, don’t you?”

She brushed her wing-joint against the small of Hedwyn’s back, to make a point. Volfred Sandalwood smiled sadly.

“Ah, my girl, you make an excellent point,” he said, “and I did consider it, but if our harp delegate were to leave suddenly under these circumstances, how do you think the council would react?”

Fikani thought about it. Her feathers prickled.

“Yes, yes, ‘oh the harps have abandoned us, oh the harps are traitors, lock them all out,’” said Fikani, seeing Volfred’s point. “Bother them! They’re so _fussy_. My people are at risk, too. There are so few left of us, and nearly all of them live out there. Mr. Chief Physician knows that, doesn’t he?”

“He is aware,” remarked Oralech, who’d been watching this play out from off to the side.

“And I have one more request,” said Volfred. “A selfish one, this time.”

 “And that is?” sighed Fikani.

 “I cannot send away all my compatriots,” said Volfred. “The council cannot be allowed to call a vote with incomplete information. They will need to be stalled, and I will need trusted friends at hand to help me do it. Ti’zo, to run my messages, and you, to help keep those councillors from making a hasty decision. They are, as you say, rather fussy.”

“Friends, he says,” grumbled Fikani, but, despite everything, she had grown very fond of Volfred. He had officiated her and Hedwyn’s bond ceremony a little over a year ago now. She was inclined to want to help him when she could. “You say that, as you ask my husband to go back to that wretched trench--”

 “For the Nightwings,” said Hedwyn, staring at Oralech. “I’ll do it.”

The demon had not moved from the shadows of the garden. There was no reading his face. Still, Hedwyn didn’t look away from him. Then, Hedwyn hung a hand back, to hook his fingers with Fikani’s wing-thumb. He gave her wing-joints a gentle squeeze. She lowered her head onto his shoulder.

“--which he agrees to, because he’s so _damnably_ heroic.” Fikani nipped Hedwyn’s ear scoldingly. “I do find it dashing, but I do want you back. If he doesn’t return in a month, I’ll go fetch him myself, and I can look for a long time. A very long time.”

“My dear girl,” said Volfred, “I would expect nothing less.”

“When do we go?” asked Hedwyn.

The pack landed at his feet, thrown with the precision and strength that an old conductor might lob a celestial orb.

Oralech lowered his hand.

“Now,” said the doctor.

“And take whatever else you need,” added Volfred. “The carriage will be ready to leave on the hour.”

 

* * *

 

  
“I don’t like this,” said Fikani.

“I know.”

“I really don’t like this,” said Fikani, again.

“I know,” said Hedwyn. “I don’t either. Do you want me to stay?”

“I want to save people,” said Fikani. “I want to stop them from dying. I want to stop the war from happening again. But now I’m playing _politics_. Did you ever think we’d be doing this?”

“I never thought I’d live past twenty,” admitted Hedwyn, as he finished loading the last of his gear into the carriage’s storage compartment. It was one of the horseless carriages developed by the Westwood guild -- a sap enterprise. The machine would be powerful enough to take them through the capital and on the paved Commonwealth roads, but they’d have to switch it out once they reached the rougher Old Empire roads of the border.

Fikani paused. The slight prickle of her feathers was Hedwyn’s only warning. She swept up to him, folding a wing around his face so she could lean over and kiss him as much as she’d like.

 “Me, neither,” she said, pulling back. “This is better.”

“I’ll sure take it,” said Hedwyn, cupping her cheek.

“Save everyone out there, all right?”

“Save everyone here,” said Hedwyn.

“That’s a given,” said Fikani, but she did press one more quick kiss under Hedwyn’s left eye. Her hair tickled his neck. “And don’t let Mr. Chief Physician bully you too much, all right? Just because his feet hurt doesn’t give him an excuse to be a complete jackass, and if he doesn’t take care of you, I will drop a washbasin on his head.”

“Your husband shall meet no misfortunate while he is with me,” said Oralech, appearing from the other side of the carriage, “unless it is of his own doing. Keep your washbasin to yourself, and finish your goodbyes. Are we ready?”

“Almost,” called Volfred. He appeared in the small servant’s door that let out into the Palace of Justice’s supply docks. He flowed down the old stone steps, rootings winding around the railing of the stairs to keep his balance. Stone was not a favored flooring for saps. He stopped by the curb, and handed Oralech a bundle of papers and a purse full of Union coin.

“What’s this?” Oralech eyed the papers.

“A few regional maps I pulled from the old war room,” said Volfred, “and a few pre-prepared executive orders. Signed, if you need them. Your rank was officially reinstated with your liberation, but here is the documented proof of it, should you need it.”

Oralech leaned back against the carriage and waited.

“And I wanted to see you off,” said Volfred. Oralech nodded, more satisfied with that answer. “Humor me one more time, tonight.”

“Yes?” asked Oralech, drumming an impatient claw against the carriage.

“One more breath,” said Volfred. “If I may.”

The claw stopped.

“Ah,” said Oralech. His scowl faded instantly. He raised his chin. Volfred took his head between his hands and bent to meet him. Hedwyn and Fikani backed up around the carriage to give them some privacy.

“...so that I may have it with me,” said Volfred, quietly, against Oralech’s mouth, “and that I might make it a part of me, in the time we may be parted.”

“Sap,” said Oralech, equally soft, despite the lingering demonic rumble in his chest. “It shall take less than a breath.”

“In your care, I am sure of it,” said Volfred. He pulled back. He folded his hands and stood straight as ever. “Well, my girl, shall we leave them to it?.

“I guess so,” said Fikani, mournfully.  She took her place beside Volfred. Hedwyn climbed into the carriage. Oralech joined him.

“Are we ready?” asked Hedwyn. He couldn’t help himself. Through the demon’s wild white hair, Hedwyn could make out a faint flush in his ears.

“What cheek,” said Oralech, but the carriage lurched alive, and they were well on their way.

 

* * *

 

The design of the Westwood carriages were a descendant of the Downside Blackwagon. They didn’t run on the power of imps, and they didn’t fly, but they lurched with a same efficacy through the city streets. It was after they passed through the old square, where they had replaced a statue of one of the Archjustices of old with a sculpture of Soliam Murr, that Hedwyn realized he and Oralech were now truly left to their own devices.

“...We should make the change at Veilfall,” said Hedwyn. “The Lenorium Hills are a bit steep, but there’s a pass that cuts through them. Should be open this time of year. That’ll be our best route to the Golden Line.”

The Golden Line marked the series of trenches that had once made up the bulk of the supply lines of the Bloodborder.

“How is it on foot?” asked Oralech.

“A little rough on the boots,” said Hedwyn, “but a well-fed Veilfall rouncey can manage it fine. They breed the horses up there to take those roads. There are a few stables that’ll sell or rent. The best belonged to House Bolkonski. If they’re still there.”

“Hm,” said Oralech. He gazed out the window, his following the people in the streets. “Time is of the essence. It is rare to see Volfred so shaken.”

Hedwyn frowned. It wasn’t really that he had anything truly personal against the Chief Physician, despite their history, but he felt an odd need to defend his former Triumvirate leader. “Don’t know. He seemed to be staying cool under all of it.”

“Did he?” asked Oralech. It was hard to say if he was being smug or curious. Hedwyn didn’t speculate. “...Were that so, he would not have come out to see us off. We can ill afford delays.”

“I see,” said Hedwyn. He managed a smile. “And you? Are you worried?”

“I cannot afford it now,” said Oralech. “I shall decide when we reach the front.”

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached Veilfall, the carriage was burning low on fuel. They rested and planned the next leg of the trip. Oralech wore a hood to hide his more extreme features, but the edges caught on his horns, and they could not pass through without a few odd stares.

House Bolkonski, as it turned out, still did operate out of the mountain town, and with the funds and notes allocated to them by Volfred, they were soon able to secure access to one of their best stables.

Unfortunately, even with the hood, the horses didn’t take well to a demon in their midst.

“I’m so sorry,” said the stable master, a young woman called Natasha, who had developed an instant fondness for Hedwyn the second he’d inspected her favorite horse and offered it a lump of sugar. “We definitely breed them for even temperaments. It’s just they’ve never seen… anything… quite like... er.”

“A demon,” said Hedwyn. “I understand. Sorry to cause a stir, but it’s important. Is there anything…?”

“Of course,” said Natasha. “Of course, we’ll find something.”

In the end, they managed to find a mare that could accept standing in the _vicinity_ of Oralech, but would not let him make any attempt to ride her, even when bribed liberally with mints.

“I expected as much,” said Oralech, eyeing his clawed fingers with distaste. “They so love to call me an Emperor reborn, but to most I am some otherworldly beast.”

“We’ll manage something,” said Hedwyn.

“We shall,” said Oralech. “Take the horse. I will keep pace beside you.”

“I… what?”

“Your Nightwings had a demon of my age in their retinue, did they not?” asked Oralech. “I seem to recall her capable of keeping decent pace with me.”

Hedwyn recovered from his confusion, smiling stiffly as he adjusted his headband. “Captain Jodariel was truly something else,” he said, “but she still had her hooves.”

Oralech flexed his boot idly.

“So I cannot dash as I once did. Would the horse run the whole way to the camp, with all our packs and supplies?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then I can keep pace.”

“If you say so,” said Hedwyn.

 

* * *

 

They rented a room from the Bolkonski stable. Oralech took dinner privately. Hedwyn took it with the ostler’s family. He offered to cook. They liked his seared greens, it turned out. They were nice people. They took care of their horses, and the children liked when Hedwyn showed them how to spell their names. Literacy was fast becoming popular in the Union. When Hedwyn helped them with their dishes, Natasha, the eldest daughter, took him aside for a quick word.

“Mum and I don’t mind the extra coin,” she said. “You Union folks sure pay better than the Commonwealth, but you really should reconsider. The soldiers have been stopping people from headed that way. They say there’s a plague. They say everyone who goes there doesn’t come back.”

“That’s kind of why we need to go,” he said. “My companion’s a doctor.”

“He… is, is he,” said Natasha. She didn’t look convinced. Hedwyn couldn’t blame her. Oralech didn’t really look like a doctor. “Well, I hope he’s a good one, and I still hope you think twice about this. Plague or not, beyond the pass opens up into the Katua Fells. There’s a harp’s nest out that way. They’ve been there for decades. They’ve gone quiet since the war ended, but I wouldn’t take my chances. I know we’re at peace now, but the capital folk don’t know how vicious they can be--! There’s stories, you know, about what they do to people. To young men, especially.”

She tried to take Hedwyn’s hand. Hedwyn gently shifted out of reach. He put his hand over the bracelet on his wrist, where a feather dangled against it.

“I’ve heard the stories,” said Hedwyn. “There’s not a lot of truth in them anymore, I think. Thanks for the warning, but we’ll make our way.”

 

* * *

 

“Yes, I know of the Katua Fells,” said Oralech, when Hedwyn reported back, still holding his bracelet with a sad expression. “The Matriarch there presides over the Raze clan. I am surprised to hear they are still alive. Their wings were dark. They used to strike at night.”

“Never heard of them,” said Hedwyn.

“Hm. That is a good thing, then,” said Oralech. “Last I knew, the Matriarch had grown tired of the war. She declared she would have no more to do with human affairs, and vanished into the fells.”

“That wouldn’t make much of a campfire story.”

“Those unfond of blood made poor heroes in the Commonwealth’s eyes,” said Oralech. He rolled out one of the maps Volfred had given him, and asked Hedwyn to mark out their path, and to confirm the locations of the forts and trenches along the line. He laid out some of Volfred’s documents and begin to review. “We will be headed to Fort Libertus. The commanding officer is one Captain Jubileus. Do you know him?”  
  
“Reported to him once or twice,” said Hedwyn, “not much beyond that. He managed the backline last I knew him. He was… cautious, but pretty fair. Never liked to take unnecessary risks to his men or his horses.”

“That could work in our favor,” said Oralech. He went back to reviewing the lists. Hedwyn watched him. Oralech noticed him watching.  “...Yes?”

“Ah, it’s nothing-- just--”

“You are surprised I can read it,” said Oralech, simply. Hedwyn jolted in his seat. “Yes. I have learned, though not as fast as you may be thinking. Your mentor, in his boredom, taught me in our time among the Nightwings.”

“My reader taught me,” said Hedwyn, a little more strongly than he meant it. Something about hearing Oralech say the ‘Nightwings’ in that way just brought it out in him. The demon peered at him.

“Your reader,” said Oralech, slowly. “Volfred’s shadow.”

“She was more than that to us,” said Hedwyn. It came out sharper than he meant -- or maybe exactly how sharp he meant it. Oralech didn’t seem particularly surprised. He leaned back and nodded, as though this were exactly as expected. Somehow that made Hedwyn clench his hands a little tighter.

“Ah,” said the demon, “so that is trouble for you. I had wondered if you disliked me for your own sake. It seemed rather unlike you.”

“Guess you just know me,” said Hedwyn. He wanted out of the conversation. He wondered if he could go check their packs, or maybe help the children with their nightly chores.

“Hmph. Then, I knew _of_ you. Now, I have a fuller picture,” said Oralech. “You are quick to take up the cause of one you care for. Volfred is persuasive, but hardly dear to your heart, nor were you the puppet I took you for when first we crossed paths. So. You hate me on behalf of your reader.”

“Hate’s not…” Hedwyn sighed and scratched at his headband. “Hate’s not really the word for it.”

“But if it was your choice, you would have rather it been her standing in this land on this day.”

“Your concern is appreciated,” said Hedwyn, falling back now on the aggressive manners he’d clung to since he was a boy. “but if it’s all the same to you, Chief Physician, I don’t see how talking about it really helps the situation at hand. I think I should go check our bags. We’ll have a tough trip, through the pass.”

He folded up the map and stood. He could feel the demon’s eyes buried in his back, sure as a Highwing spear.

 

* * *

 

They left the next morning, much to Natasha’s visible regret. The trip over the pass was quiet and uneventful. It turned out Oralech could keep pace with the horse. They entered the valley close to sunset, the fells rose up ahead of them. Hedwyn reined his horse at the first glimpse of it.

“Something amiss?” asked Oralech. The doctor had been silent for most of the day’s journey, a fact Hedwyn found more of a relief than he wanted to admit.

“Nothing,” said Hedwyn, blinking rapidly. “Just... It’s been awhile, is all. If we take route past the aqueducts, we should make it in another day.”

The aqueducts had been built during the height of the Sahrian Empire, under the orders of a more competent ancestor to Soliam Murr.  They were meant to carry water from the mountain springs to the once numerous valley communities. Sections of the system had been destroyed in the years of recurring warfare with the Highwing Remnants, but, past the Katua Fells, much of it remained in tact.

Hedwyn scanned the skies carefully as they made camp close to one of the structures. He’d hoped to water his horse using one of the reserves, but the animal’s ears went back as they neared it. The smell was unmistakable even several feet away. For a moment, he considered the long line in the distance -- the stream that ran down from the fells directly.  He thought for a moment of riding across the grassy plain at full tilt, with no care for speed or fear of detection. He sighed. Hedwyn gave the horse one of their stored waterskins instead, and rejoined Oralech by the fire.

“The water’s gone bad,” explained Hedwyn. “We could head for the stream, but that’d take us off by a few hours--”

“I want to be there close to dawn,” said Oralech.

That ended that. Hedwyn was hungry, and he wanted to avoid conversation, so he set about digging up some roots and using some of his spices to make something like a stew to eat as the stars appeared above them. If he’d hoped Oralech would take dinner without comment, he was sorely mistaken.

“Hm,” said Oralech. “It has flavor. I was not aware this valley grew anything that tasted like more than air.”

“It doesn’t,” said Hedwyn, “but Fellroot’s so bland it can taste like just about anything. Some Linnean halfpeppers does wonders.”

“A Linnean halfpepper,” said Oralech.

“It grows in the eastern provinces,” Hedwyn shrugged. “Managed to find some in the markets. Only a little. It’s kind of a heavy spice. You ground up the seeds and the shells--”

“I know what it is,” said Oralech. “It clears the sinuses and brings blood to the lungs. When I could, I would mix it with my teas, for the men who developed a grip.”

“Ah,” said Hedwyn, smiling rigidly. “Better use for it.”

“A different use,” said Oralech. “One taught to me by my forebears, from a long medical tradition. Yours, however, would never have occurred to me. Who taught you that?”

Hedwyn tried not to flinch. He hadn’t really set out to make a conversation out of it, and the Chief Physician had a way of making even the most simple conversation seem like a trial, but there wasn’t far to escape in their little campsite. “No one, really. I figured it out using some Downside fruit from Black Basin. Just tried to find something similar. Rukey thought this might do it. Guess he missed something about the place.”

“Do you?” asked Oralech.

“Some,” admitted Hedwyn. He rubbed his head instinctively. His hand no longer met the old bumps under his headband, those itchy bits that had once signified a transformation he’d done his best not to think about, but he found the old scars from them all the same. “My friends. The times we had together. It was tough, but it wasn’t all bad. How about you? Do you miss anything about it?”

He met Oralech’s eyes when he asked. If the demon was going to ask prying questions, he might as well have his own back, but, to his surprise, Oralech gave the question some thought. He drank the rest of the stew straight out of the bowl. When he was done, he set it aside and answered.

“Most of my companions had long passed on,” he said, “and most of the times we spent together were such that could never be reclaimed. The rest… I should have once thought it best left forgotten, but who are we if not the sum of what we have survived? My last lesson of the Rites, I suppose.”

 “If it’d been up to me, I’d probably still be down there.”

“Is that so?”

“...Didn’t want to leave without the others,” said Hedwyn. “Didn’t want to go until the rest of them were safe. I promised them we’d go together.”

How easy it’d been to make that promise. When he’d just wanted to know his friends would be okay. When he wasn’t sure Fikani would’ve even remembered him.  
  
“Idealist,” said Oralech, and Hedwyn came crashing right down into the present. A present where Fikani had remembered him, and he sat now under a completely different set of stars. “Volfred had other ideas, I take it.”

“Our reader, actually,” said Hedwyn. “We always left it to her. We decided we wouldn’t second guess her.”

Oralech was the one who looked away. He peered into the fire, the light of it danced in his eyes. It made his scars look deeper, as his lips pursed in thought.

“Gareph and Iq’sa never wished for freedom,” he said, at last. “I would never have taken them on had it been so. Nevertheless, I find I do miss them. They took on a cause that was not their own, for nothing but their own personal satisfaction. There are few with that grace in either world. I hope they are well.”

He stood and took Hedwyn’s plate.

“Hope so, too,” said Hedwyn. “I hope they all find a measure of peace and I guess that they forgive me, a little. For taking what they didn’t get.”

“I do not regret my freedom,” said Oralech. “Do you?”

“I…” Hedwyn didn’t have to answer. He really didn’t. He touched his bracelet. The softness of the feather kept his breath even. “What a question.”

“It is of no consequence to me,” said Oralech, “but if you and your friends placed such value in your reader’s judgment, I should think they would prefer you to relish what their work has earned you, rather than languish over what could not be.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Hedwyn, “everything just went your way.”

“Would you second guess her?” asked Oralech.

Hedwyn had nothing to say to that.

 

* * *

 

Captain Jubileus was seven years Hedwyn’s senior, but he looked much older. His charcoal colored hair was now peppered with grey on one side, and he had a burn scar shaped like a star under his left eye. He kept his hair in a long braid, and the pin attached to his blue cape was dented and dulled by the wear of the battlefield. The last eight years on the front had been long for him. Whether it was the grind of managing the backline of a vicious war, or the more unexpected shock of having been promoted to most senior officer of the Golden Line during a peace he’d never counted on, it was hard to say; but, when Hedwyn and Oralech arrived at the camp, the bottom half of his starburst scar crinkled as he frowned, looking between them both somewhat hurriedly..

“Where’s the rest of you?” he asked, without much preamble. He drummed his riding crop against his arm. He’d obviously been considering his options for awhile. “Surely the council would’ve sent more than just… you.”

“Chief Physician Oralech is a member of the council,” reminded Hedwyn, who, to his credit, wasn’t taken completely off guard by Jubileus less than formal greeting. Jubileus had always had a tendency for nerves. “He came as soon as we heard.”

“ _Oralech_.” Jubileus started, his ashen features going even more pale. He was a young enough officer that he would never have known Oralech personally, but he was old enough to recall some of the old campfire gossip. “Oralech the… the Chief Physician, now. Again.”

“A letter for you,” said Oralech, who to his credit at least didn’t smirk at the way the officer blanched. The tip of his claw dug slightly into the parchment. The official seal of the Union was clear on the envelope: an imp, wings arched. “From the Prime Minister. If my purpose here is in any way uncertain.”

“I. Ah.” The Captain looked at Hedwyn and then back at Oralech.

“I’ll read it out, if you’d like,” offered Hedwyn, sensing the real source of Jubileus discomfort. It wasn’t just Oralech’s lingering reputation as an infamous Commonwealth traitor. The truth was Jubileus had been a law-abiding citizen. Like many of law-abiding citizens, he’d never learned to read. He rushed to pick it up in the present day. From the way he bit the inside of his cheek at the mere thought of it, he wasn’t learning fast enough.

“Not necessary,” said Jubileus, quickly. He clicked his heels together. “Welcome to Fort Libertus. You’ll need to be briefed--”

“I shall,” said Oralech. “Show me where you are keeping the sick.”

“Excuse me?” Captain Jubileus’ eyes drifted off to the north of the fort, and Oralech set off in that general direction without waiting for further instruction, shouldering his pack.  Hedwyn hesitated only to hand the reins of the horse off to a stable-hand, before following suit. Jubileus trailed behind them. “Excuse me-- I can’t recommend that--”

“I require fresh water, towels, and soap,” said Oralech. “Standard requisitions. Staff officers are allowed the last. The first two should be in the mess and the second in the barracks. Unless the basic requirements have changed since my exile…?”

“Things have gotten a little leaner,” said Hedwyn.

“Nevertheless, bring me all you have,” said Oralech.

Jubileus to his credit managed not to sputter. “We can’t do that--”

 “No?” Oralech did pause, here, turning on his heel to bend over Jubileus. He was not so huge as he’d once been with his hooves, and Jubileus was tall by the standards of the front, but the forward sweep of his lingering horns still gave the illusion that Oralech was much larger. “Why?”

 “Because we’ve had to burn our towels, our water rations are nearly gone, and everyone who accesses the sick tent ends up sick themselves,” said Jubileus. “It’s deeply contagious. We’re under a strict quarantine. We’ve lost most of our support staff to it.”

“Dead, then?”

“Some,” said Jubileus, his eyes darkening. “More than it should’ve ever been. It comes on fast. We can’t afford a dead councilman. We can’t afford to have it moving into the towns. All we can do is keep it contained, and pray. Come to my office. I’ll tell you whatever you need, just--”

“I have survived the Downside,” said Oralech, “and I will do my duty. If you wish to speak with one of us. Speak with Hedwyn.”

“Actually, if it’s all the same,” interrupted Hedwyn. “I’d like to help.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow.

“I can’t allow that,” said Jubileus. “On my authority, I must insist--”

Oralech turned and marched down the row of buildings.

“And on mine, you are overruled. Bring me what I asked for, or as much as is on hand, and I will not be required to relieve you of your post,” said Oralech. Jubileus stared after him. Oralech nodded to Hedwyn. “Come with me, we must change.”

“Change?”

“If it is contagious as the Captain has reported,” said Oralech, “prayers are not all we require.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Raiments,” said Hedwyn, as Oralech unpacked the robes and the masks. Somehow, even after three days of travel, the fabric was as bright and white as it’d been the day Hedwyn had shot out from the Shimmer Pool. “Why--”

“Seemed as fine a measure as any,” said Oralech. “They were made to resist the flame.”

“...and all else,” said Hedwyn. He picked up his old mask. It felt heavier in this world, even though it was still made of the same hollowed bone. “Never would’ve thought of that.”

“You would have, had you seen the masks we wore after a harp mustard bomb,” said Oralech. He pushed the demon’s mask over his horns. It took more jiggling than it once did, to get it over his vanishing horns, but he managed it. A second later, the image of Soliam Murr swept his cape back over his shoulders and Hedwyn felt a stab of sadness deep in his gut.

“Captain,” he said, distantly. He wondered how Jodariel was doing. He hoped he could write her soon. He wondered if she’d found happiness, somehow, even so far away...

“Hm?” Oralech glanced back at him.

“Let’s go,” said Hedwyn, fitting his own mask.

 

* * *

 

It was worse than they’d expected. Captain Jubileus had had all the sick moved to a parade tent at the farthest end of the the encampment, near the latrines. The smell of sweat and sickness was thick even through the natural filters of the mask. Hedwyn could’ve wretched at the first gulp of it, but Oralech moved with purpose down the line. Hedwyn carried the waterskins.

The patients were filthy. Their sheets hadn’t been changed in days. Some had been laid directly on the packed earth. Some shivered from chills, despite the thick summer heat. Some lay quietly, gasping. Some were lost in delirium. One of the sick soldiers grasped at Hedwyn’s cape as he passed.

“Oh, Master-General,” she croaked. She was wrapped in her own cloak. The red in it told him that she was a light cavalry unit. A scout. Just like he’d been. “Is that you? Can I go with you? Can I be done now?”

“...Not yet,” said Hedwyn, kneeling next to her. He wet a towel and squeezed it out into her mouth, the way Oralech had shown him. “Definitely not yet.”

The patients were covered with horrible sores. The worst of them were located at their necks and armpits. They were all at various stages of fever. Some slept quietly. Others writhed.

“It will hurt for a moment,” murmured Oralech, to one of the farthest along. The sores had spread up their neck. He touched one, and the man groaned. Oralech pressed a wet cloth to his forehead, and then his lips, and the man calmed, some. He rubbed him down with the cloth. He pasted bandages to the open sores, and painted the anti-septic script over them. He showed Hedwyn how to do it, to maximize their efforts. They repeated this, again, and again, and again, until the roll of bandages -- and the waterskins -- were entirely spent.

It took hours. When they were done, Oralech stood without a word and stormed out of the tent.

 

* * *

 

“The Mercy of the Bloodborder never ceases to amaze me,” said Oralech, as he stomped into Jubileus offices. He threw one of the empty waterskins across the captain’s desk, scattering his rudimentary reading slate and chalk. Jubileus had been dictating a careful report to one of his adjutants. He saw the horns and raiments and breathed a startled prayer to the stars. The adjutant ducked behind the desk. “Clean bedding. Fresh water. You are keeping those soldiers in a festering hell. They are starving and dehydrated. Were you simply waiting for them to die?”

“No--!” said Jubileus. He didn’t even see Hedwyn slip in behind the demon. “What do you-- no. Of course not. If you had let me explain, Chief Physician…!”

“Explain what?” roared the demon, his cape whipping behind him as he advanced on the captain. “Explain why you would house them next to the _latrines_? Open the bathhouses to them. Have the healthy pull more water from the wells. Five of those men may die in the night, and those deaths shall be under your stars.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” snarled Jubileus, his eyes all at once shining with barely contained tears. Rage or frustration, it was a bit of both. “What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you? We’re nearly out of supplies. We’re in the middle of drought. The wells have gone _dry_. Nearly all my men are already in those tents. We’ve closed the roads. We’ll take no tradesmen. None who we’d let go back, anyway. We’re starving _ourselves_ , too. I can’t let this spread to the villages. There will be far more than those deaths on my hands if I do. Scribes help us all, I know full well what ought to be done, but I don’t have the means, we don’t have the strength--”

Hedwyn shoved his way between them, holding out an arm to both their chests. Oralech loomed over him. Then, after taking in a few measured breaths, he eased back and folded his arms.

“What about the stream?” asked Hedwyn, looking back and forth between them. He didn’t lower his hands. “The one that runs out of the fells. I saw it when we rode in.”

“Nothing,” said Jubileus. He fell back against his desk, gripping it so tight his knuckles blanched. “If you came from the south you’d have seen the old aqueducts. They fester. Nothing runs through them but filth. Filth all the way down.”

“All the way?” asked Hedwyn. “Really?”

“Something the matter?” asked Oralech, curious.

“All the water comes from the spring,” said Hedwyn. “Up in the fells. I used to water my horses with it. It’s good all year round. It’s fast enough it shouldn’t go stagnant, or corrupted.”

“It could be harps,” said Jublieus, suddenly. “We’ve been spotting more of them of late over the Fells. The type with the black wings. You don’t think _they’re_ behind this--”

“No,” said Hedwyn, flatly. Jubileus put his head in his hands. Hedwyn eased up, just a little, though he wished his bracelet weren’t currently wedged under his raiment’s bracer. “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.”  
  
“I do,” said Oralech. He turned back to the shaking Captain. “How are your food stores?’

“Only the barest grain,” said Jubileus, in an empty voice. “Not enough for everyone.”

“The fellroots out on the flats can make a decent enough soup,” said Hedwyn. “...If you boil them long enough.”

“A Downside delicacy,” remarked Oralech.

“We have no _water_ ,” snapped Jubileus.

“But the harps might,” said Hedwyn, “or, at least, maybe some fresh blankets. I’m sure we could negotiate with them.”

“Or they could dash you on the _rocks_ ,” said Jubileus. “How can you talk like this? My men are half dead.”

“I know,” said Oralech. “I saw them.”

He couldn’t help the growl from creeping into his voice. Jubileus stopped, his breath in his throat. Hedwyn stepped a little more firmly in front of the captain, and raised his chin.

“Chief Physician. If you don’t think I should go,” said Hedwyn, “then tell me, because I’m about to.”

“Don’t go,” said Jubileus.

“I will not tell you that,” said Oralech, at the same time. He pulled off his mask and shook out his hair.

“No?” asked Hedwyn.

“Because I will go with you,” said Oralech.

 

* * *

 

Jubileus let them go. He had no real choice.

“At least take some weapons,” he said. “A musket, at least. That scares them off--”

“No,” said Hedwyn. Fikani had told him the stories about harps who faced down human firearms. She had scars from them, herself. A large slick spattering burn wound, over her left knee. “We’re not going for a fight.”

“ _They_ don’t know that,” said Jubileus. “You are our only hope. Please, at least take something.”

“Shall we take your sword, then?” said Oralech, showing his teeth as he said it. He was growing impatient.

To everyone’s surprise, the captain unlocked it from his belt and handed it to Hedwyn. He refused to take it back. Hedwyn was forced to clip it to his own belt.

“We place the last of our faith in you,” said Jubileus, meeting Hedwyn’s eyes. His starburst star quivered in place. He set his jaw tight. “Do not leave us.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Hedwyn, clasping his hand. “Not again.”

He could tell from Jubileus weak smile that the captain didn’t believe him at all.

 

* * *

 

It took several hours. The Katua Fells were nothing compared to the peaks of Alodiel, and Hedwyn and Oralech, who were familiar with that far steeper climb, made good time against the ridge. It was the heat that proved the danger. The winds were strong and cold, but the sun beat down hard. Oralech insisted they stop every half hour to drink from their water supply, but he refused to let Hedwyn refill from the stream.

“Look how it runs,” he said, holding his wrist.

Hedwyn looked. The water was shot through with the same purple-black murk that had choked up the aqueducts in the valley.

“This far up,” said Hedwyn.

“Corruption at the very source most like,” said Oralech, “and look. It runs as a trickle, not the powerful flow it ought to be. Bothersome. We will have to make the full climb.”

“Will we have enough water for the way down?” asked Hedwyn.

“If we make the climb in a day.”

“A day!”

“I will not leave those soldiers untended for more than that,” said Oralech, “and I have grown unfond of heights.”

 

* * *

 

“Mind the sun,” hummed Hedwyn, despite himself. “Mind what hides there. Mind what hides there in the glare.”

“That old nursery rhyme,” said Oralech. A soldier’s song, actually, but Oralech surely knew that. “So you do remember something.”  
  
“Captain Jodariel sang it to me when I was a boy,” said Hedwyn. He did check behind them, holding up a hand against the high sun. “I took some of her lessons to heart, at least.”

To his surprise, Oralech laughed. A deep rumble, deeper with the demonic reverb that lingered in his chest. “How practical of her.”

“Always was. It would’ve saved me any day but that one that got me exiled,” said Hedwyn, but it did save him in that instant, when he checked again and grabbed the demon’s arm. They flattened against the hill and rolled, just barely ducking under the metal net as it smacked against the stones. Their training reminded them well enough what came next. Oralech and Hedwyn pulled their scarves up over their faces as the smoke bombs collided with the stones near their feet. Spicy smoke filled the path. Hedwyn scrabbled for higher ground. The demon followed after a moment, shaking off the lingering smoke with a deep, guttural growl before seizing Hedwyn around the waist and carrying him to the next ridge.

“Hold!” called Oralech. “Daughters of Raze. We fly with Matriarch Shang. See, here, the plume and mind your sister’s call!”

A confused silence, then the rushed sound of many wings. These Harps had feathers which were all dark violet, verging on black. They landed above them on the path to keep their height advantage and to obscure their numbers. Oralech released Hedwyn. The demon whirled to face them. He spread his arms, opened his palms, and then angled them downwards in a sweeping bow. Recognizing the gesture for what it was -- a harp greeting -- Hedwyn followed suit. This earned them another rustle of wings from above. No more nets or smoke bombs though. Not yet, anyway.

“...I guess it’s true,” called Hedwyn. “I know it sounds wild, but, um. My name’s Hedwyn. It’s nice to meet you?”

He tugged his bracelet out from his raiment’s sleeves and held it out. After a moment of muttering above, a one of the harps descended from the crags. She wore a Remnant helm and carried a spear in her wing-thumb. She landed a spear’s length away from them. She bent forward, cocking her head. She peered at the bangle and clicked her tongue.

“‘Hedwyn’ is the name of no harp,” she said, in a harsh voice, “but Shang is, and that is a bond plume. Who did you take that from?”

“It was given to me by Fikani Shang, my bond partner,” said Hedwyn, unable to disguise the warmth in his voice at the thought of her, even with five or six armed fighters peering down at them. “Daughter of Sumani, Blood Sister of Umani and Hakani. Wing Sister to--”

“Enough,” said the harp, drawing back with a harsh snap her wings. “You speak the right words, but you are no sister, and harps have no brothers.”

“I wouldn’t claim to be either,” said Hedwyn, “but I’d like to be a friend.”

The harp stared. The wing thumb curved around the spear twitched, and she turned instead to Oralech.

“You,” she said. “Beast who who called on our matronym. Do you claim sisterhood as well?”

“No,” said Oralech. “Merely an old debt. Tell me, do you and your wing sisters still fly under Matriarch Shikari Raze?”

“Why?” asked the harp.

“Does she yet live?” asked Oralech.

“Why would you care?” asked the harp.

“Ere twenty years ago, I set her blood daughter’s broken wing,” said Oralech. “I would like to conduct a follow-up exam.”

The harp made a several motions then, first one in advance, as though she’d hoped to gut the demon on the spot, then backwards as she changed her mind. She hopped back and forth not unlike sparrow. Then, she gave a cry, and her wing sisters emerged from their hiding places, diving down to surround Hedwyn and Oralech. The first harp, the clear leader of this band, approached Oralech with her spear lowered. She stabbed the point into the ground and leapt to perch on the base of it, peering into his face.

“Liars abound,” said the harp. “You speak of ancient history. History I am surprised you should know. There was a man who brought a sister back to us. He promised to return to us with an offer of peace, but his people killed him and the war continued. Shikari is dead. I am Makari Raze, and I know you not. Explain to me why you lie to me, before we dash you on the rocks.”

Oralech raised his eyebrows. After a moment, he shook his head and laughed.

“Makari,” he said, in a voice that all at once went warm with kindness but also a bit of sorrow. “Macha. Makaren. So it is you. I’d wondered. You have grown, but you speak so harshly. Surely the years have not been as hard on you as they have been on me?”

The harp froze, her lips parted slightly. She reached a wing up and shoved her helmet off her head. Unmasked, the harp leaned on her perch to renew her study of the man’s face. Then, she jerked back with a gasp.

“Doctor,” she whispered. “Doctor, it couldn’t possibly-- Sweet Triesta, it _does_ look like you under all that. The hair… and your face…! What did those barbarians _do_ to you?”

“The mercy of my people,” said Oralech. “Forgive me, my lateness, child. I promised you a far earlier appointment than this. How is your wing?"

The harp’s feathers rose, a ripple of down.

“See for yourself,” she cried, practically at a shriek as she spread both her wings wide, both very functional and both very whole. Then, with no more warning than that, she launched herself off the spear, wrapping both wings around the demon without a care for his size or basic personal boundaries, laughing and crying all at once.

 

* * *

 

The harps led them to their nest and, true to his word, Oralech insisted he check the wing.

“It has barely scarred,” he said, feeling along the joint as Makari opened and closed it at his request. “Good. You kept up on the poultices.”

“Oh, how they itched!” she said. “I thought sometimes it was your way of avenging yourself on me! But, you promised me I would fly again, when all my sisters were convinced I would not.”

“I said it would be a possibility if you took care with it,” said Oralech. He gave the wing an approving pat, and Makari folded it back at her side. “I am glad to see you did. …My condolences for your mother. I should liked to have seen Matriarch Shikari again. She was a fair woman.”

“She would have liked to have seen you again too,” said Makari, “especially in so strange a time as this. They say the war has truly ended. Is that true?’

“More or less,” said Oralech.

“And was that your doing?”

“Chief Physician Oralech was a valuable ally during the Scribe’s Return,” volunteered Hedwyn. “He marched with us when we took the capital. He’s done a lot since to make sure peace really sticks this time. That’s part of why we’re here.”

They both looked at him. They’d likely forgotten he was there. Oralech sighed deeply. The Matriarch’s face became cool and professional again.

“You make up for lost time, then,” she said, and any childishness in her expression was gone, replaced by the steeliness of a Matriarch, even one who had taken up her post far earlier than she might have liked.

“The boy does me too much credit,” said Oralech, “but we _are_ here for another reason. Have any of your flight fallen ill?”

They had, as it happened. The Raze flight had dwindled in the years since Oralech had been exiled, down just thirty or so harps. Fourteen had caught it, but they were all on the mend. Oralech asked he see them. The harps led them to the sick cavern. Oralech examined each of the patients in turn, after that he asked Makari about the particularities of their treatment. Yes, they’d been immediately cordoned off, yes, they boiled all water before giving it to them. Yes, they took the water from their own smaller springs. No, not the mountain stream, they were too exposed there, and--

“It’s corrupted besides,” finished Oralech, “but do you know the stream’s source?”

“I do,” said Makari, “but I would not go there if I were you.”

“Why is that?”

“Well…” said Makari.

 

* * *

 

The problem was a ratbag. A big one. She’d set up a nest in the spring, and it was teeming with young.

“That’s… a lot of them,” said Hedwyn, crouched carefully at his vantage point, tucked in a gap between the stones looking down into the crevasse where the spring normally welled.  He counted at least fifty. Probably more. He hadn’t been able to do a full count. They kept moving. “Not to mention there’s a queen in there. I’ve never seen one that size.”

The average ratbag was usually about the size of a knotted up football. They bit ankles. They snuck into your food stores. They often had to be chased off with flaming pokers or a few shots from a musket. Sure, the queens could reach the size of a dog, maybe a young pony if she’d managed to get into a dung heap, but they usually never reached the ‘minor annoyance’ stage of pest control when it came to creatures that bothered outposts on the front. They hated loud noises. They hated fire. They made a little “Yeow!” noise if you stepped on them. Cadets sometimes took turns kicking them over the gates.

They wouldn’t get very far if they tried to kick this one. This ratbag was ten feet tall. Her ears brushed the cavern ceiling. She was a bulbous orb of a beast made up of sodden fur and heaving leathery sides. They could smell her even at a distance. Her children had brought her tribute: several dead goats, and stolen garbage, presented on their chittering backs. She sat eating it, swallowing it in great heaves of her voluminous form. On the inhale, she sucked in the offering. On the exhale, she breathed out the remains. Smaller ratbags clung to her sides and to the wall, waiting for the scraps. The spring was full of remnants of earlier kills. The whole pool smelled like rot. Their nest was made of garbage. Bones, stolen food from the harp camps, Hedwyn even recognized an old border banner in the mess. This filthy bedding had been packed with intent in a corner of the cavern, as though they were building something, or...

“They’ve blocked the spring,” said Hedwyn.

“And infect what remains,” said Oralech. “No wonder the pestilence has spread so completely in the valleys. We will have to clear it if we hope to restore the flow.”

“We’re outnumbered,” said Hedwyn. He could see now why the harps had chosen to stay clear of the mess. There were so few of them, and so many ill, and with the ratbag nesting, an attack would be unwise. “Guess this is a bad time to remind you I served as a scout.”

“And I, a medic,” said Oralech. “It is true, the both of us are ill-suited to frontline combat, and it seems our adversary has no pyre to be snuffed out.”

Hedwyn stifled a surprised laugh, then he paused.

“...I wouldn’t count it out,” said Hedwyn.

 

* * *

 

The spring, Hedwyn reasoned, was probably severely backed up. If they could poke even one hole in the dam, the release would probably blast most of the ratbags out of the cavern. The trouble was luring enough out to give them a clear path to the plug.

“They fear the Scribes,” said Hedwyn, lost for a second in another time. Oralech gave him a look. “I mean, they used to snuff the fires at my old outpost. They like things to stay damp and cold, especially if there’s a queen brooding.”

“So we light a flame to draw them off,” said Oralech. Hedwyn nodded. Oralech pulled the tinderbox out of his pack, and together they drew a circle in the dirt outside of the cavern. It took two sparks to set it burning: first a small plume, then a larger crackle as the kindling took. Oralech held his hand over the flame as it began to sway.  “A farce of a Rite, but a plan worthy of your mentor.”

“A little less far reaching,” said Hedwyn.

The chattering from the cavern grew louder, more focused. The ratbags started to smell the smoke.

“You realize, however, that I will be the one in the defending position,” said Oralech, tapping his ankle as he hauled himself to his feet.  The doctor still had strength and endurance that yet bordered on the inhuman,  but his feet had recently transformed from hooves. Age had begun to catch up to him in the Union. “I do not have the speed I once did, and I am too large to maneuver in the cavern proper. Can you carry the day?”

“Celerity shows itself to the enlightened. You’ve got less to carry with you,” said Hedwyn. Oralech peered down at him. “Something my Reader used to say. Yes, I think I can.”

 

* * *

 

Saying it and doing it were two different things. There were no stars. There was no orb. No Jodariel, no Rukey, no Reader in his mind or a Voice in his ear, but there was a fire at his back and an objective ahead of him. So be it, decided Hedwyn as he plunged into the cavern, clutching the captain’s shortsword -- a make and design he hadn’t wielded in ages -- this would be a Rite and he would conduct it. Wherever the Reader was, he’d do her proud.

He wasn’t entirely sure what she would’ve done with all of this, though. The cavern was smaller than the average sacred grounds, and more crowded -- even more so than the Imp-ridden fields of Khaylmer. The ratbags shifted and hissed. Some flinched away as Hedwyn dove past them, some snarled and bounced at him, rebounding off the walls. Hedwyn had to duck the lunge of one and leap over another. He wove between falling piles of trash. He could almost hear the Reader’s voice, the way it had appeared in his mind and nudged at his limbs: This way, no that way. No Back. Back back back back. Leap, please leap!

When a ratbag caught him in the arm and sent him slamming against the cavern wall. He tried not to think about the louder boom of the Voice: _Beneath contempt._

No Aura to protect him. He felt the impact in full. Hedwyn grit his teeth and elbowed the ratbag in the snout. It fell in a squawking daze. Hedwyn pushed off of the wall, and took on a full spring. He could feel the teeth and claws tugging at his cape. He twirled sideways, smacking another ratbag away with the flat of his blade as he charged. A long dash. The kind that carried him to victory more than a few times during the Rites. Ahead of him, the ratbag queen stirred. She rose over him blazing eyes fixed on him. Hedwyn fell into a skid. He slid under her tail. She turned faster than he expected. Her paw came down over him, trapping him in place. That was fine, though. He’d done what he wanted. He lay with his arm extended. He’d gotten very good at throwing things.

He’d developed a really good aim.

Jubileus’ shortsword, sharp and seldom used, was now stuck in the well of garbage behind the queen, buried to the hilt. A few drops welled around it. Then a few more after that. Then the crack in the muck spread, dripping out around the wads of fur, around the balled up mud--

Then the water exploded outwards, hitting the ratbag queen in the side. It sent her rolling away along the cavern floor. It took her, the garbage, the brood, and Hedwyn, flushing them all out and down the side of the mountain.

It was a rough ride. The pent up waters were strong. They slammed Hedwyn around, first against the bottom of the cavern, then against the sides, then amongst the debris. He held his breath. He tried to think of it like the dark of banishment, except the shock of the cold made him swallow a mouthful of water, and, no matter how many times he reached out, he couldn’t find the light, he couldn’t grab at anything in the dark, he couldn’t -- he couldn’t--

Oralech pulled him up by his hood and onto the rocks.

“Ngh,” gurgled Hedwyn. Oralech laid him on his back and pressed his hands against the bottom of his chest.

“Nrgh,” said Hedwyn, more strongly. He spat out the filthy water. Oralech rolled him over onto his side. Hedwyn laid there, gasping for a little bit while he watched newly freed spring water dislodge all the muck. The rest of the ratbags went screaming over the edge.

“A fine performance,” said Oralech.

“Could have done without that last part,” wheezed Hedwyn. He heaved again. Then he pressed his wrist against his mouth. Then he checked, quickly, for his bracelet. It was soaked through, but it was there. He held it to his lips and closed his eyes.

“Fikani,” he muttered. “Sorry. That was a close one.”

“She shall have you back yet,” said Oralech.

“Thanks,” said Hedwyn.

“Thank you,” said Oralech.

“What for?”

“See for yourself.” The demon pointed. Hedwyn followed his finger. Sure enough, he could make out the frothing line of the water pouring its way down the mountain, making its way back to the fort below.

“Think we’ll be able to get back in a day?”

 “I think we have the means,” said Oralech.

 

* * *

 

The means ended up being Makari Raze and her people. They were so grateful that Oralech had freed up the springs they granted him spare blankets, twenty extra water skins, and a lift back to the camp. It took one harp to carry Hedwyn. It took four to carry Oralech. It was a short flight. The valley wasn’t much of journey when you had a set of wings. It reminded Hedwyn of the first time Fikani had carried him off with her. Frightening, and exhilarating. He wished she was there.

Until he saw the smoke over the camp.

“An attack?” shouted Makari, over the winds. “Not from us!”

“The smoke is coming from within the walls,” reported Hedwyn. He could see it as they got closer. No one on the walls. Inside, the office building ablaze. Soldiers were scattered below, some fleeing, some dragging the ill. None of them seemed to notice the harp contingency above the blaze. Some carrying torches, moving with great purpose towards the tent near the back of the camp…

“So they panicked,” said Oralech. “They are burning the camps. Macha, will you drop us beyond the wall?”

 “And open your waterskins over the flames,” added Hedwyn. “We need to to get that under control!”

 Makari Raze made a shrill call. Her sisters angled her wings and moved low. They tried to be careful about it, but Hedwyn still rolled as he fell. He stumbled to his feet. The air tasted like ash. He reached back for his mask and pulled it over his face. Ahead of him, he saw Oralech rear up, his own mask fastened over him.  

 “The tents--” said Hedwyn. He needn’t have bothered. Oralech had already galloped ahead of him, dropping down on all fours like a beast to lend himself speed. Around them, the flames hissed as the harps began to drop water and dirt onto the blazes that had caught along the administration building. A row of fire blocked them off from the sick tents, but Oralech and Hedwyn leapt through without a second thought. The fires lapped briefly at their raiments, but despite the momentary flash of heat over his arms, they didn’t catch at all.  

 Some holiness remained, then. Thank the Scribes.

 Oralech reared back onto two legs. On the other side of the flames, Captain Jubileus stood in profile. He looked like he’d been been expecting them.  He had a torch in one hand and a musket in the other. He stood in front of the flap to the sick tent. When he saw Oralech and Hedwyn, framed in shadows against the growing flames, he sighed and dropped the torch onto the ground. Then he turned, musket raised.

 He’d taken off his scarf while they’d been gone. The plague splotches were very clear with it gone. He’d been hiding them.  His hand shook as he took aim with the musket.

 “The Scribes returned,” said Jubileus, breathing hard. “So you wear their robes. So be it. Have you any mercy for me, you’ll take me now before the illness does. But I ask you to let the rest burn. For Mercy’s sake.”

 “Captain,” said Hedwyn. “Reconsider.”

 He tried to slide a step forward, but barrel of the musket followed them. Behind him, the fire began to tease its way up the tent flap. Oralech growled in warning. .

 “Let it burn,” pleaded Jubileus, “before the sickness spreads, or before the harps kill us.”

 “That won’t happen,” said Hedwyn.

 “It always does,” said Jubileus.

 “There’s peace now.”  
  
“It never lasts,” spat Jubileus.

 “Think about your men,” said Hedwyn. He was distantly aware of Oralech shifting behind him, edging one foot forward in a sideways slide. Hedwyn raised his voice a little louder, to keep Jubileus’ attention. “They don’t have to die for this. We can save them--”

“Hedwyn the Deserter,” snapped Jubileus, and as his voice cracked so did a piece of wood in the distance -- one of the administrative buildings collapsing on itself. “What do you know about saving _anyone_? How many lives are you responsible for?!”

“Two hundred sixty-two,” said Hedwyn.

He stepped forward with his hands out. Jubileus watched him, his eyes shining in the flame.

“I know you’re scared,” said Hedwyn, “but we can stop this. Just--”

Jubileus choked back a sob stepped back. He braced the musket against his shoulder. His fingers twitched, as he pulled at the lock.

Oralech leapt. The barrel of the musket jerked sideways. The weapon went off, exploding in a spatter at close quarters as the demon surged forward in a blur of white. He caught the Captain by his trigger hand. He closed his other hand over the muskets smoking end. He bent the weapon in one quick pull.

“Enough,” said Oralech, before he smashed his masked face against Jubileus’ forehead.  The captain dropped in a daze. Hedwyn grabbed the captain and and pulled him clear.  Oralech tore down the burning tent flap, stamped it out, and vanished into it as the harps descended around them, to douse the flames.

 

* * *

 

They moved the patients to the main barracks and the stables. They put out the fires that consumed the administrative building. They locked Jubileus in the empty storeroom, for treatment and for observation. It took several hours. In that time, Oralech carried the last patient out from smoky tent, handed her off to a harp, and turned to face the confused bows and salutes from the remaining soldiers -- the adjutant had regained some control over them, in that time.

“Captain Jubileus has been relieved of his post,” said Oralech, holding his side as he spoke, “on the authority of the high council and Prime Minister Volfred Sandalwood.”  
  
“Understood,” said the adjutant. “Your orders, sir?”

Oralech ordered them to start pumping water and pulling fellroot. He ordered them to clean the latrines and shoot any ratbags they found there. He ordered them to start digging new irrigation channels to clean out the parade grounds. Then, once the units had been broken out and men allotted to the appropriate tasks, he turned to Hedwyn.

“Hedwyn,” said Oralech.

Hedwyn noticed the faint red stain under his hand.

“Yes?”

“I have a musket ball lodged against my rib,” said Oralech. “Fetch boiling water, and my kit. I would like it removed tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Hedwyn didn’t have any experience beyond very basic first aid. It turned out that didn’t matter. Oralech talked him through the worst of it. Despite their limited access to anesthetic, the demon had a high tolerance for pain, and somehow, through it all, he maintained his calm instructions. He walked him through cleaning the wound. He walked him through sterilizing the tools. And, digging his claws into the wood of the barrel he’d braced himself against only slightly, he walked Hedwyn through locating the ball and pulling out.

“That should do it,” said Oralech. “You will need to stitch it shut. Did you ever darn your socks?”

“First chore Captain Jodariel taught us,” said Hedwyn.

“Good,” said Oralech, “It’s nothing like that. Keep a steady hand. I would like it to be quick..”

How he managed a ragged smile through this, Hedwyn wasn’t sure. It was only then that he realized just how much bloodshed Oralech must have seen to be so unfazed by his own injury. Hedwyn got to work sewing him up the way he asked, pausing when he was unsure, asking when he needed guidance.

“And reheat the needle,” muttered Oralech. “It needs to stay sterile. ... Two hundred sixty-two?”

“The unit we lost to the harp attack,” said Hedwyn, easily enough. He worked on the next set of stitches. Oralech swallowed and tipped his head back. “They told me at my trial.”

“Because you did not sound the alarm?”

“Because I left to find her.” Hedwyn nodded. “And I’m glad I did find her, but I can’t say they didn’t have a point. Those men would be alive if I’d done my job. Thought about it an awful lot after they sent me Downside.”

“A heavy burden,” agreed Oralech, breathing sharply as Hedwyn pulled the thread tight. “Do you still think yourself responsible?”

“I do,” said Hedwyn. “I think about it almost every day. When I came back, they told me I was absolved of everything, but that’s when I knew it wasn’t right at all. Me being free didn’t bring them back.”

“And you carry their lives with you, even now,” said Oralech. “...I am curious. How many men do you think died because I did not return to the front?”

Hedwyn paused. “You were a doctor. You were trying to sue for peace.”

“Exactly my point,” said Oralech. His eyes had gotten half-lidded during the surgery, a small flickering line of red through his eyelashes. “How many more men could I have saved, had I returned?”

“I don’t think there’s a way to put a number on that.”

“Mm. Perhaps not,” said Oralech. He shifted slightly, tapping his medical bag with one claw. “The antiseptics are in the jar to the left. You will need to paint the poultice with it. How many people do you think my patients killed? And many of my patients died the next day regardless of whether I saved them or not? So senseless. I grew sick of it, and yet, even in seeking an end, I carry more lives with me. We all carry the lost with us. Through our action, or our inaction. Enlightenment will not erase those lives, nor should it. It merely changes the way we walk with them, and how we might remember them.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” said Hedwyn. “I don’t want to forget them.”

“Nor do I,” said Oralech. “Though I should like those deaths to not be in vain. Volfred once promised me a peaceful country, where we might yet stand shoulder to shoulder. I would hold him to it.”

“Wish we could keep all our promises,” said Hedwyn. He pressed the poultice to Oralech’s side.

 

* * *

 

With a clean camp, and fresh water, and lots of fellroot, the patients showed notable improvement over the course of the next few days. There were no more deaths, and the plague splotches began to scab over and fade. When enough soldiers  were well to tend to the rest, Oralech and Hedwyn moved on to the next fort along the line. They had sent messengers ahead with instructions, and here they found conditions already considerably improved, although they found a smaller nest of ratbags chewing up an old gristmill. Hedwyn led a contingency of cadets to deal to send them scrambling into the hills.

They spent only two days there. By the end of two weeks, they’d managed to reach all affected encampments. The situation was improving, Makari and her harps discovered trade and running messages was surprisingly lucrative, and there was some talk about reopening the roads. Oralech’s wound healed into a jagged pink slash up his side, with no sign of infection.

“I am a beast of another world yet,” said Oralech, flexing his claws. He slid on his raiments. They were back under the Katua Fells. Hedwyn had come to fetch him. A messenger had arrived with a relay just that morning. They’d reopened the main roads. “If it scars, it will be another for the collection, I suppose.”

“A message just came in,” said Hedwyn. “From Volfred."

It had the revolutionary seal on it. Oralech handed it to Hedwyn to read out to him. The letter was written in Volfred’s immaculate script.

‘My dear Oralech,’ it said, ‘It seems these roots can delay the river’s course for only so long. I hate to ask you to drag the driftwood from it once more, but it seems it can no longer be avoided. The vote on the matter of the border will take place this week. Fikani and I shall make do, but your presence would be welcome.”

Oralech listened with an unreadable expression. When Hedwyn finished, he shook his head, eyes crinkling at their corners in a way that Hedwyn had come to learn meant a barely restrained smile.

“Driftwood,” he breathed, “as though I had ever mistaken you for that. Urgent, then..”

“Urgent?” asked Hedwyn.

“Volfred Sandalwood is seldom so succinct,” said Oralech. “Hedwyn, fetch your mount. We go. And we go now.”

A little blue down feather fell out of the envelope as well, but Oralech, mercifully, raised an eyebrow and let that go without remark.

 

* * *

 

Ti’zo met them on the road from Veilfall, not long after Oralech finished dictating his report. It was a thick document, too heavy for Ti’zo to lift with any speed. Volfred’s request had become even more brief: The council would convene to vote that morning. Their presence would now be _very_ welcome.

“Tell him to waste their time a little longer, little one,” said Oralech, letting Ti’zo rub his head against his knuckles. “Tell him that I know that he can. And fly safely, friend.”

He sent Ti’zo ahead of them, with news and a promise that they would not be ere long. When the imp’s body was little more than a round spec on the horizon, the demon took in their time and the pace of Hedwyn’s horse, and he stopped.

“Hedwyn.”

“Mm?”

“How fast can we make the capital?”

“At this pace? Mid-afternoon, I think.”

“Possible. But not enough,” said Oralech, frowning. “How fast can you make the capital?  With no packs, and no old man to shephard beside you?””

“A few hours, unladen,” said Hedwyn, automatically. Then he hesitated as he weighed the second half of the question. “But you’re not thinking--”

Oralech took the report, signed it sideways, and handed it back to him. He pulled the packs from the back of the horse. The mare’s nostrils flared but she let him. Then the demon fell away. He stood in the center of the road, and folded his arms.

“My feet ache,” said Oralech, with an unwavering stare. “I will make my own way”

“I’m your escort,” said Hedwyn.

“Then escort my report,” said Oralech. “Volfred requires my authority. Whether or I am at present attached to it is besides the point.”

“He’ll need your vote.”

“And he shall have it, most like. I will be a few hours behind you.”

“You’re injured.”

Oralech scoffed and patted his side.  “I have carried on with worse. Enough. I will hear no more of it. There is none other but you who might travel so swift. You have the knack for heroics, whether you like it or not. Take the report. Give Volfred his time. For the Nightwings, if naught else.”

Hedwyn tucked the document into his tunic. He gripped the reins of his horse.

“For the Nightwings,” he echoed. So he went.

 

* * *

 

And so it went. If not one for the history books, certainly one for the budding Sahrian news cycle.  The vote was delayed until the afternoon. Councilman Oralech’s report was received at the eleventh hour. Councilman Oralech himself returned from the front not long after that. The demon marched into the chamber of the interior, in full raiments, declared his intentions, his desire for a bath, and left, his work done, and his vote counted.

It was so like the old Chief Physician Hedwyn could have laughed-- if he weren’t completely exhausted from the ride. No one said anything about the patch in the demon’s raiments, or the sweaty aide who’d come in ahead of him. Hedwyn discovered he was ok with being a footnote.

Still, he stayed to watch the vote at least. Well, he stayed to watch Fikani vote. She was beautiful. And she insisted, really, tugging him into the chair next to her.

“Oh, and you’re covered in _dust_ ,” she said, nuzzling at his hair with her nose, not caring one jot if they were in full view of the council. The cur block had just voted against the closure. The saps were deliberating, as was their growing tradition. “What have they been _doing_ to you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” said Hedwyn. It sounded bolder than he felt just then.

The saps voted no on the closure.

“I don’t have to drop a wash basin on him, do I?”

The human block took their time to deliver their vote. It was their nature. They were the largest of the Union blocks, and they’d been the most divided on it. But one by one, the regional councilmen gave their verdict. No, no, abstained, no.

“Bath sounds really nice actually,” said Hedwyn.

“I’ll join you,” said Fikani, “Once we’re done here.”

“A-hem,” called one of the older human men from across the room. Councilman… Jahm, was it? Hedwyn was too tired for the name to come easily to him .”And would the harps care to cast their votes, since they have been so insistent that they join us?”

 Beside them, Volfred gave a low chuckle.

“My girl,” remarked the Prime Minister, gently, bringing them out of their own world and back into the room.  “I believe you’re up.”

“Ah, yes,” said Fikani. She stood up on her chair, “Well, no on the closure, obviously. It seems we’ve got it all completely under control. Though while we’re at it? We’d like to extend an offer for the Raze flight to join the coalition, seeing as they have helped us so much, and also seeing as they are all alive. Can we do that?”

“My girl, that is a wonderful idea,” said Volfred, “But we may need to save that for another meeting. I fear we have driven our fellows close to open rebellion. A bit of mercy may now be in order. Unless we would, in fact, prefer to continue?”

Complete silence. The council’s collective faces took on a mix of listlessness, silent fury, and not a small bit of dread.

“Oh, fine. If we _must_ leave it,” said Fikani, settling back down. “This meeting really _has_ gone on long enough. Where did our time go?”

“An. Excellent. Question,” said Councilman Jahm, through his teeth.

“And also, perhaps, one for another day,” said Volfred Sandalwood, with maybe just a touch of smugness dancing in his bright green eyes.  Hedwyn could see then why he must have loved Chief Physician Oralech so much. They had an awful lot in common, when all was said and done. “Meeting adjourned. I thank you all for your time.”

The chambers emptied at record speed.

And so peace in the Union was maintained for yet another day.

 

* * *

 

And, in the back of his mind as he filed out of the crowded chamber, Hedwyn felt the gentle pull of a presence reaching out to him. He lifted his head, hopefully. It was a feeling he remembered from the Downside, during the Rites.

But the presence was earthy and avuncular, not airy and full of whim. Volfred, then. Hedwyn let him in. The warmth spread in his mind like roots, supportive and grateful.

[Thank you, my boy. You have carried the day. If there is anything I might do for you, name it.]

[If it’s all the same] thought Hedwyn. [I’d like the night off.]

 

* * *

 

When Hedwyn woke up, it was three days later and Fikani was fast asleep. He slid out from under her wing. She stirred, staring blearily at him.

“Yes?” she said.

“Going for a walk,” he said. “Won’t be long.”

“Oh, ok,” she said, not registering it in the slightest. He kissed her forehead. Her head vanished back under her wing. It was nice that they could sleep so deeply these days.

The truth was, Hedwyn wasn’t sure why he felt the need to take a walk through the old gardens in the Palace of Justice in the middle of the night. His legs were still sore from the ride. But that’s where he wound up. It felt not unlike his days Downside, when they’d set out to prepare the sacred grounds, under an observant moon and different stars.

So Hedwyn wasn’t entirely surprised when he turned a corner and found a man in white standing at the far end of the gardens. He was even less surprised to find he recognized him. The jagged silhouette of his horns. The white hair piled up in a ponytail. Oralech’s eyes were cast skywards. He nodded as Hedwyn drew near.

“So, our hero awakens,” said Oralech.

“Something in the air,” shrugged Hedwyn. He wasn’t sure ‘hero’ was really the word for it, but arguing it just then seemed like a lost cause.  “You, too?”

“Sometimes I watch the moon,” said Oralech, “It reminds me of someone I knew.”

For a moment, Hedwyn liked to imagine the faint twang of a lute. But there was nothing between them then but the wind over the garden wall.

“Me, too,” said Hedwyn. “Mind if I stay awhile?”

“Hm,” said Oralech.

 They stood together like that for some time.

“The choice was nearly mine,” said Oralech.

Hedwyn looked up. Oralech watched the sky. In profile, it was hard to see his eyes, they were hidden by the shrinking curve of his horns.

“In the last Rite,” said Oralech. Though Hedwyn already knew what he meant. “The pool ran red. It would take anyone, but only once. As victor, the minstrels asked me who I would have go free.”

Hedwyn had never really asked, what had gone down at the end of that that last Rite. He knew the basics. Jodariel in her messages had once explained a bit about it: the Nightwings defeated, and Oralech freed. What had gone on between Oralech and the Reader had happened nearly wordlessly, and under the roar of the falls. The remaining Nightwings had had their theories, but none of them agreed with each other. The only two people who knew for certain had never volunteered the truth. The Reader, because she claimed it wasn’t her story to tell. And Oralech, because no one had ever had the nerve to confront him about it. The revolution had happened so fast, and Volfred had welcomed him back so quickly, and time, that endless soldier, had marched on.

“Did they,” said Hedwyn, with a strained smile. “Can’t imagine what you chose.”

‘I do not regret my freedom,’ Oralech had said at Veilfall. The words burned now in Hedwyn’s memory, like the red pyre of the True Nightwings.

“I chose her,” said Oralech, turning his head. Here, Hedwyn caught a glimpse of his bright eyes, watching him in the dark, with that unreadable intensity that from Oralech could nearly be called fond.

Hedwyn stared.

“Whether you believe me or not is hardly my concern. Why I wavered on that mountain is hardly yours. I won the Rite. Had I not sensed she had allowed it, had she left me alone to my personal hell, I might have taken my liberation with no hesitation. But I did hesitate. I did doubt. And I made my choice. Yet when I knelt to anoint her, prayer on my lips, she stood on her toes and pressed her hand to my forehead instead.

“‘None of that,’ she said, ‘I give my freedom, so you may yet have yours.’ And so she would not be dissuaded. Such a strange, little woman, and yet she had defeated me in full. ‘I give my freedom, so you may yet have yours,’ she said, and there would be no further argument. So she stole my last choice right from my lips. And so you are graced with my presence on this auspicious night.”

“Huh,” said Hedwyn.

“There,” said Oralech. “Is that to your satisfaction?”

“Not at all,” said Hedwyn. The smile hurt this time. “But it sure sounds like something she’d do.”


End file.
